


All This Ringing in My Ears, None on My Fingers

by hybridempress



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabble, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 01:23:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6883312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hybridempress/pseuds/hybridempress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life isn't easy when you feel like a coalmine, suffocating the canaries in your life with how toxic your aura has become. Certainly it would be easier for Francis to just collapse on himself, no?</p>
            </blockquote>





	All This Ringing in My Ears, None on My Fingers

**Author's Note:**

> Felt like writing a drabble for a storyboard that I had written ages ago concerning a comic that I wanted to maybe pay someone to draw for me someday. It's been a couple months and I haven't had the money for a commission, nor have I found an artist who would be willing to draw some dark and depressing FrUS for me. Originally this was meant to be a little songfic but I had trouble with the formatting, thought it looked boring and terrible, so at aphMagick's suggestion I opted for using the song lyrics as pieces of dialogue or description instead. Hope you enjoy <3 (The song that this fic is referencing, by the way, is "All This Ringing in My Ears and None on My Fingers" by Fall Out Boy B)c )

He was a canary, that Alfred. At least, that was always the word that Francis had used to describe him. Maybe it was because the cheerful aura about him reminded Francis of the glowing, happy yellow of a canary’s feathers. Maybe it was because Alfred’s laugh sounded just as commonplace yet beautiful and uplifting as a canary’s song. Maybe it was because Alfred himself was just as small, soft, and warm as any canary could be. 

But Francis? He was a coal mine. He couldn’t think of a better term to describe his disgusting, dismal, depressing lifestyle. To others he appeared just as light-hearted and arrogant as ever, but if you could see the way the curtains were drawn to keep the sunlight from shining onto his piles of clothes that he’d been too tired to wash, and the cigarette butts that he hadn’t thrown away, and the faint remnants of bloodstains in the bathroom sink, you’d know why he hadn’t let anyone over to his home in a year. It was enough despair to suffocate anyone. 

_Ah, yes, sorrow is just all the rage these days,_ Francis found himself thinking, quite sarcastically, whenever he would start crying over something as insignificant as the fact that he had forgotten to pick up another carton of eggs from the store on his way home that day. It wasn’t even like he needed them today. He still had a few more eggs in the fridge. He was just so frustrated with himself for forgetting, and became furious when he started crying like a goddamn baby over something that shouldn’t have even made him upset. He had come to find this thing happening more and more often with each passing week. 

“Take one for the team,” he murmured to himself, taking a deep breath before pushing open the double-doors of the meeting hall.

These days he hardly had the strength to go to work everyday. But it wasn’t fair for him to call in sick, or to request vacation time during the busiest part of the season, when everyone else was working so hard. Besides, it didn’t really matter what was going on in Francis’ life right now. No one else knew, and it was nothing for them to worry their heads over now. Francis could handle things on his own. He’d been doing well so far, hadn’t he?

But as the voices bounced around him as he sat at the rather large meeting table, Francis found that he couldn’t focus. His vision slowly clouded with tears, and all he could hear were faint murmurs like the noise of someone talking to you in the background while you’re playing music through your earbuds. Eventually enough was enough and he stood up abruptly from the table, whispering “I’ll be right back” before rushing out of the room. Somehow, his coworkers, they all knew what he really meant; he wasn’t coming back to work that day.

_I’m so sorry._

_Well, not really._

_This is for the best, I’m afraid, you know? I’m starting to neglect things besides my own health and it simply isn’t fair to the people around me. It’s best if I simply wasn’t around to neglect things anymore. I’m sure everyone will be much happier that way, but especially, I will be._

_You got along just fine without me before you met me, and I know you will continue to be fine after I’m gone. You’re strong like that. I envy you for that._

_I’m sure you can tell the boys where to find my body. You know where my favorite place is._

_I love you. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. This is my last chance._

_I love you._

_-Francis_

He’d asked for Alfred to come to his home, saying he had something important that he needed to discuss with him. Francis hadn’t even bothered to get dressed before Alfred came over. He was wearing a dingy tank top and a pair of shorts that were high enough to leave his scarred thighs exposed. A cigarette was hanging from his mouth, but he didn’t have time to light it before he heard his doorbell ring. 

He stood up from where he had been sitting, on his couch, and strode over to the front door. Alfred had looked as jovial as ever when Francis had answered the door, but as soon as Alfred saw into the house, and the deplorable state that it and Francis himself were in, his smile vanished from his face. Francis’ heart broke even more, seeing Alfred look so concerned, but he didn’t have time for feelings now. 

“Francis? What’s going on?” Alfred asked as Francis pulled him into the house and shut the door behind them. 

He dragged Alfred back to the living room, snatching up a piece of paper from where it had been resting on the table by the front door as they walked by. When Francis finally let go of Alfred’s wrist, Alfred turned to face Francis, but not to look him in the eye. Alfred’s beautiful blue New York eyes shifted towards Francis’ tattered Chicago thighs, which showed off cuts that looked like they hadn’t been closed for very long. 

“Franci-”

Francis shoved the paper he had been holding into Alfred’s chest, pressing his palm flat on top of it. Alfred took hold of Francis’ wrist and slid his hand away gently before grabbing the paper that he had pressed to Alfred’s chest. He didn’t look at the paper, he looked into Francis’ eyes. 

“Francis, what is this…? What’s wrong?” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Francis mumbled, pressing his hand against Alfred’s chest again, this time pushing him up against the window that was behind them. Alfred’s eyes never left Francis’ face.

“Don’t read it until after I’ve left.”

“Wait, what-?”

Before Alfred could get an answer to his question, Francis pressed his lips hard against Alfred’s and gave him a long and bitter kiss. Alfred was too stunned to say or do anything. As soon as Francis had pulled away from Alfred, he backed out of the living room and left the house, leaving Alfred alone in the darkness.


End file.
